


Brighter (After the Storm)

by sugarplumsenpai



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Minor Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein, Post-Canon, Post-War, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 14:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10923408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarplumsenpai/pseuds/sugarplumsenpai
Summary: When one door closes, another one opens.A story about dreams, thunderstorms, and kindness when you least expect it.





	Brighter (After the Storm)

**Author's Note:**

> So much thanks to [erenbaeger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/erenbaeger) and to [raindrop_rouge](http://archiveofourown.org/users/raindrop_rouge/pseuds/raindrop_rouge) for their kind patience with me, for their shared enthusiasm for my unruly flashes of midnight inspiration, and for adding their wonderful beta sparkles to this story. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Despite all the cruelty she had seen in her life, Mikasa’s first memory was of the May dance in their nearby village when she was four years old.

Her mother had put her into a white, beautiful dress with little, embroidered animals on it, and she herself had looked so pretty that day that Mikasa’s father glowed with pride. It had been a beautiful day, and Mikasa had stood close to her parents, her tiny hand holding on tight to her mother’s skirt as they’d watched the people on the market square.

There’d been that one couple that stood out to her. A tall woman with a blond plait and spring flowers in her hair and the red-haired man she was with. They'd looked at each other as if no one else even existed, moving in harmonic unison and too absorbed in their dance to notice anything around them.

All Mikasa could do was watch them and decide for herself that one day she wanted to be that woman—or that man—only to have someone to look at like that.

 

* * *

 

When Eren rescued her a few years later and wrapped her into his warm scarf, telling her she’d have another home from now on, she remembered that day back then, and it shone through her dark thoughts like a ray of light through heavy clouds.

Then the war came.

And even though the memory never really vanished, she didn’t think of that couple on the market square for a very long time.

 

* * *

 

It was the 12th anniversary of the fall of Shingashina, and Mikasa felt restless as she searched HQ.

She'd been looking for Eren for over half an hour now, but he was nowhere to be seen. They'd been busy with training all day, and he'd been pushing himself to no extent before wolfing down his dinner and disappearing quickly from the mess hall. Somehow, ever since they'd won the war, his purposiveness had become even worse on this particular day of the year.

Sometimes Mikasa thought it was because even their victory, even all his retribution, couldn't bring _her_ back—or anyone they lost, really. Sometimes she thought it was simply because he lacked a new, big goal. Whatever it was, it wasn't right. And if he did something stupid or reckless tonight, she at least wanted to be there for him to pull him out again.

When she did find him she almost overlooked him: A cloaked figure sitting on the rooftop of the weaponry, head turned up to the starry, yet clouded sky. A strong, slim frame in the shadows of the night.

He needed her. And she’d be there for him. Like she always would be.

Turning her back to the window, she made her way to the nearby building.

It was one of these summer nights that ironically stood in contrast to today's memories. The air vibrated with life. The cicadas hummed through the darkness, adding to the rich scent of sun-dried soil, wild herbs, nearby stables, and the typical weapon oil smell of HQ that seemed to seep through every brick and door. Heat was pressing down on them, yet the breeze from the east was pleasantly cool and chilled down the sweltering remains of the afternoon torridity that still lingered in the stones and earth. A storm was coming. And it would approach them soon.

She was about to turn around the last corner when she heard a deep voice, and her heart gave a resentful kick.

Too late, she thought, not knowing if she should be surprised or disappointed. I'm too late.

Yet again.

She couldn't tell how Levi had found him. On the other hand, maybe they had planned to meet here all along. The two of them seemed to do nearly everything together these days, and Mikasa felt her nails biting into her palms without her permission before she forced her hands to unclench.

Defeated, she already had made the first step to turn and leave when her name fell, and she stopped in her tracks.

“Shouldn't you be with Mikasa? Today must be hard for her too.”

She frowned, bracing herself for whatever answer would come. 

“You know how it is,” Eren said after a moment and the tone of his voice made Mikasa step closer and carefully peek around the narrow doorway to look at the scene she desperately longed to be a part of, yet couldn’t.

They both sat on the roof tiles, Eren cross-legged and beautiful in the pale moonlight, even from behind, Levi to his left, his removed boots to his right. Little curls of steam rose from his naked toes, and Mikasa frowned in exasperated disapproval. He really had pushed himself too hard today.

What struck her most, however, was the distance between him and Levi. It was appropriate, polite almost, and yet too little at the same time. They sat shoulder to shoulder, so close that their elbows would brush if they moved, but not as close as she would have suspected.

Levi had his one leg stretched out, and she quietly clenched her teeth in regret at the odd angle that indicated a deliberate rest. They both looked straight ahead, and although they both had their back to her, there was an unconcealed frailty in Eren’s shoulders that he hadn’t let her see for years. Not like this, anyway.

They were off-guard.

Whatever she had expected to see, it hadn't been this. She silently shifted away from the entrance to rest her back against the stone wall.

Levi spoke again. “Want to talk about your steaming feet?”

“No.”

“Alright.” Levi remained silent afterwards, probably not even turning his face to look at Eren, and Mikasa was angry, so angry at this.

She was angry at Levi for…something. She was angry at Eren for being this stubborn and self-destructive sometimes. She was angry at Armin for not being here to talk some sense into their friend. And most of all she was angry at herself. She was angry at herself for not being able to let go. She was angry at herself for clinging on to some dream she’d been carrying around for nearly two decades now. She was angry at herself for her own dedication, although she knew he didn’t really want—or need—it. And she was angry at herself for actually _liking_ Levi. He was family, in every sense of the word. And a good friend.

But she wanted to talk to Eren too. She wanted to talk to _someone_. Not only on this day but on every day. She wanted to have someone to sit next to, someone who understood her and simply would listen to her thoughts, without judging, someone who’d fight along her side, guarding her back and accepting her protection in return, and who'd maybe even like her enough to reach out and hold her hand. She also wanted to march out there to tell Eren that this was what he got from overworking himself and that he finally should start taking care of himself at least a little bit better.

But then Eren talked again, and her irritation dissipated as quickly as it had come, making her shudder with another gust of cool wind blowing through the corridor.

“I'm so exhausted.”

The whispered words felt like ice to her guts as warning goosebumps rose on her neck and arms. Never had she heard Eren’s voice be this lacking of energy. There always was a certain power left, a certain rage, a certain drive. But this ghost of a whisper felt utterly wrong, and she knew he didn't speak about a mere lack of sleep, even before he spoke on.

“I just don't know how to keep on going like this.”

She could picture his face right at this moment. Could picture how the shadows under his eyes would look almost hollow, how the skin would stretch like thin paper over his cheekbones, could picture the slight tightness of his lips as he’d press them together, and the nervous fumbling of his fingers. She’d already seen it in the way his head had been bent downward before, vertebras exposed and vulnerable, and in the slightly doubled-up curve of his back. She could even see it with her eyes closed.

And it ached.

Her arms moved up to wrap around herself and she did her best to push the desperation that tried to rise in her chest back down. She’d known Eren had been bottling something up. This, however, she had not seen coming.

How she’d always wished that Eren would eventually open up to her like this. And for the umpteenth time, the question wanted to burst out: What does he give you that I can’t give you too? I just want to be at your side as well. Protect you, make you strong. I've got no one else left. 

When Levi spoke again his voice was steady and calm, just as her own, and his answer similar to what she would have said in his place as well. “That's not true.”

“No,” Eren admitted. “I guess it's not. We’ve got to stay strong, don’t we? Keep on going.”

“That’s right.”

“Mm.”

Levi’s voice was surprisingly soft in the following quietness and Mikasa frowned. “You have to tell her eventually.”

“She already knows about us,” Eren said sullenly.

Scowling now, Mikasa thought. Almost pouting. Shoulders slouching slightly, eyes staring into space. The knowledge nearly made her smile.

The reply was a gentle one. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Eren sighed and on the other side of the wall Mikasa silently crouched down. She knew she should leave. Shouldn’t even stand here right now and eavesdrop to begin with. But her feet wouldn't move. She was rooted to the place and couldn't bring her legs to obey.

What did Levi mean? And yes, of course, she had known about them. How could she have not? It would have been a wonder if she didn’t know—she knew Eren better than he knew himself, had seen it coming much earlier than he had. Everyone had noticed Eren's particularly blatant starry-eyes one morning and the not too well-concealed softening in Levi’s glances whenever Eren was nearby.

She wasn’t jealous. Not really. And yet she still clung on to the hope, the belief, that someday, eventually, Eren would change his mind against all odds.

“Not tonight,” Eren said and silence fell once more.

“Do you have regrets?” Levi asked quietly. “Would you rather have joined Armin in exploring?”

“No. My place is here.” Then Eren chuckled. “Someone has to make sure you get _some_ sleep at night.”

The following sound was unfamiliar and strange, and it took Mikasa a moment to realise Levi was laughing. It wasn’t a particularly cheerful laugh, nor was it bursting with brightness like Eren’s, but it was definitely a brief, almost carefree wheeze.

Somehow it all just made it worse. It made it impossible for her to resent him.

They were happy together. She could tell.

Eren spoke again. “I bought new ointment by the way.”

A sigh. “I don't need it,” Levi said.

“The cramps are worse lately, aren't they.” It wasn’t a question and Levi didn’t reply with words though he must have let something on since when Eren spoke again his voice was determined. “Then we'll continue. It’s not too much money anyway. Or a bother.”

Someone shifted. And somehow Mikasa could sense Eren’s smile.

“Has Hanji noticed?”

“No,” Eren said mildly. “Not yet.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Eren hummed.

For another while, there was nothing again but the stillness of the night, Mikasa’s own breathing, and the wind howling through HQ.

“The storm is coming fast,” Eren mumbled then. “Mum loved thunderstorms. She always said they’d clean up the world and afterwards the sun would shine a bit brighter.”

His voice broke on the last word, followed by the sound of someone shifting, a rustle of clothes, and a muffled, dry sniffing noise, mingled with some deep, soothing reassurances Mikasa could not fully catch.

Trying to shut it all out, she closed her eyes.

In all the years she'd known Eren she’d never seen him cry. She’d seen lots of tears of anger and rage, of frustration and raw fury, but never had he cried out of despair or sadness. She didn’t have to glance at the two men on the roof to realise that he would never let her see his grief. Not like this.

Somehow that insight gave her the strength to finally stand up again.

She really should leave.

Not able to stop herself, she took one last, stealthy look.

Eren’s hair was ruffled and they were just breaking apart from an embrace. Mikasa could see the concerned frown on Levi’s brow in his profile and the carefulness of his thumb as he brushed away a single tear on Eren’s cheek, his other hand raised to rest protectively on Eren's neck.

Even when Eren cried he was so beautiful. And when he lifted his gaze at Levi, Mikasa didn’t have to wait for Eren to explain anymore what Levi had talked about earlier.

Suddenly she stood on that market square again. And she knew right then and there that Eren would never look at her like this. He didn’t even see her, nor anyone else. It was alright. She was happy for them. It was a gift. And although she still wished for it herself, longed for it, she granted them both to have someone good, someone kind, who looked back.

If there was anyone she trusted with Eren as much as she trusted herself…it would be Levi. He would be there for him. As well as Eren would be there for him in return.

Averting her eyes, she turned around to withdraw from the weaponry as quietly as she could, leaving her childhood dream behind on that roof and the two of them to themselves.

Far ahead the darkness rumbled.

 

* * *

 

The storm hit hard that night. Lightnings fissured over the sky and made the world crack and roar with thunder while the clouds wept and drenched the earth.

It was good to feel the rain, to let it soak her all the way down to the bones until she finally felt numb again.

She already was halfway through the corridors to her quarters when she turned around a corner and crashed into a broad, dry chest.

“Watch out where you–‘Kasa? Fuck you’re wet.” Jean’s hands, that had shot out to steady her instinctively, let go again but otherwise he stayed where he was and looked down at her, his brow furrowed in open worry.

“Jean.”

“I was looking for you… You look like shit and you are shivering. Here.” He unbuttoned his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She didn’t need it. The night was still warm, despite the cooling effect of the storm. But the unexpected kindness was too much and before she knew it she felt herself sink against him. He froze for a moment, but then his arms lifted and held her close, not minding the fact that now they were both wet with rain. His shirt smelled wrong and yet familiar and good, like clean man and leather and a day under the sun. 

When had she last been embraced like this? She couldn't remember. And feeling his arms around her—one hand between her shoulder blades, the other one brushing over her hair—hearing his heartbeat against her ear, and surrounded by comfort, she suddenly felt like she never wanted to let go again. 

He didn’t ask what had happened. Didn’t push for an explanation. Going by her state he probably already could guess. So they simply stood there, quietly, until her breath came even again. She loosened the embrace and he let her go.

“Mikasa?” he asked.

“I never had a chance. Did I,” she said, looking right into his light brown eyes.

He frowned and swallowed, peering down at the dripping, red shawl before holding her gaze once more. Yes, he knew. “No, I guess not. I’m sorry.”

At least he was honest and she appreciated his tact. “Thank you, Jean.”

“I…um…do you need–” He cleared his throat. “Should I go and fetch Sasha? Or Hanji?”

“No. I think I’d rather be alone.” She began to slip out of the coat but he gently caught her shoulder to stop her in her movements.

“Keep it. You need it more than I do right now.”

And there it was. That look. Directed at her and her alone.

She didn’t know why she’d never seen it before, but now that she thought back it must have been there all along. What had he said—he’d been looking for her? He knew she’d lost a home too all these years ago. He hadn’t lost anyone that day. And yet, here he was, trying to make sure she wouldn’t be alone. The world truly had an odd sense of humour.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Jean asked.

“Yes.” She made a decision. “But see you tomorrow? After training?”

He stared back at her for a second, eyes searching, widening, and then he nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course. Whenever you want.”

She nodded back and somehow found a small smile. “Goodnight, Jean.”

“Goodnight, Mikasa.”

She squeezed his arm in another silent thank you and went to her rooms, still enveloped by a surprisingly soft, green coat that hadn’t been hers when that day had started.

It might not have been a scarf, but the wool was warm and smelled like sunshine and faintly of leather and it consoled her, filling her lungs with new hope, with change, and a promise of something good. Tomorrow she’d keep on going, looking forward.

Because she was strong.

Things would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is loved <3


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